Queen of the manor
by louella
Summary: On a trip back home, a face from the past stirs up uncomfortable emotions for Gene. He doesn't want to want her, but if he can't have his true desire, is there anything wrong with accepting second best?


**Queen of the manor**

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Gene Hunt sat at the bar, swirling a tumbler of scotch while trying to shield his eyes from the glare of neon and the gaudy flashing lights illuminating the dance floor.

"Dunno, Guv. Maybe Scottie invited her."

"Hmmph." Gene downed the scotch and signalled to the barman for another. The only way he was going to get through this abysmal evening was by getting thoroughly and comprehensively pissed. The man at his side, a DC Gene knew from the old days, picked up on Gene's mood and quietly sidled away, unwilling to put himself on the receiving end of the Guv's incendiary temper. Gene didn't notice.

Why would Scottie invite that scheming bloody bitch to his flaming retirement party? Gene would be the first to admit that he'd missed some things about his glorious home city – well, he'd missed the decent football team at any rate – but hadn't given Jackie sodding Queen a second thought since he'd moved down south. He scowled into his scotch as she slipped onto the stool next to him.

"Didn't expect to see you in these parts again," she said. "What's the matter? Couldn't keep away?"

He grunted. "Couldn't let Scottie hang up his warrant card without coming up to make sure he didn't change his mind."

"Of course," she replied smoothly. "You can't quite let go of those ties, can you Gene? You hate the idea of your power draining away."

Gene shifted on his stool, glaring at the woman at his side. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "You know what, love? I'd like to say it's been a pleasure, but I've never been a liar. Now if you'll excuse me…" Sliding off his stool, he picked up a bottle of red that someone had foolishly left unattended on the bar, and went to find Scottie in a booth in the corner.

~ x ~

She worked the room like the professional she was, flirting with the men, complimenting the ladies, charming everyone she met. He watched through narrowed eyes as people brought her drinks, laughed at her jokes, formed circles around her, basking in her glow. There was something about her, something that weakened people's defences, but whatever it was it wouldn't work on him.

He had to admit she was looking good, elegant and poised, although the curls had come as a bit of a shock. Reminded him of another ballsy, confident, curly-headed woman. He shook his head; had promised himself he wasn't going to think about her tonight.

Jackie certainly didn't seem too crushed at his brush-off. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. It didn't seem likely that she was crying into her pillow every night with the pain of missing him. She was standing with her back to him, bending over a small table as she rummaged in her handbag for something, and he took the opportunity to run an eye along her spine, across her arse. Not bad.

He felt a twitch between his legs, an itch that hadn't been scratched since – well – since his DI had wandered dazed and confused into his station. Wait, that couldn't be right? Had it really been that long? He sighed, disgusted with himself. It wasn't like there was any point waiting for anything to happen with her, she was way out of his league. She'd pushed him away yet again the other week after he'd put himself on the line and asked her out. He should give it up as a bad job.

Jackie turned, suddenly, and caught him staring at her. The look she sent him went straight to his groin and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

~ x ~

Gene propped himself up against the brick wall, next to the rear fire escape doors. His head swam, ears buzzed, and the smell from the industrial rubbish skips just opposite wasn't doing much to settle his stomach. Perhaps he shouldn't have had that last glass. It was always the last glass.

He turned his head at the sound of the doors swinging open, noises from the messy end of the party spilling out into the car park. He stifled a groan. "You stalking me?"

"In your dreams, Gene." She pulled a pack from her bag and lit a cigarette. Offered it to him.

"Ta." He took a drag, watching as she lit a second fag for herself, her lips pulling hard as she inhaled, making a perfect round as she blew out the smoke.

"Enjoying the party, Gene?"

"You know me. Life and soul." He hoped he wasn't slurring.

She took a position next to him against the wall. "So. How's life treating you in the big smoke?"

"They can't get enough of me."

Her sceptically raised eyebrow told him all he needed to know about her views on that. She leaned slightly closer. "Tell me, Gene. You missing the former Mrs Hunt? Or have you found someone daft enough to replace her?"

Gene dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it with his heel. "What's it to you, Jackie? You didn't care one way or the other when I was married. I don't recall my wedding certificate got in the way when you'd had a few and were up for it."

She looked at him slyly, a tiny smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I'll take that as a no, then, shall I?." She angled her body towards his and took a breath, about to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of the doors banging open. The barman poked his head out, looking around.

"Jackie Queen?" he asked them. "Taxi's arrived for Jackie Queen." He disappeared back into the bar, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

She looked at him for a moment. "Need a lift?" He didn't think long before nodding, swaying slightly as he followed her back through the doors.

~ x ~

The door of the flat crashed open as the two figures barrelled through. His hands were all over her body, under her coat, pushing up her skirt, and he leaned hard into her, forcing her back against the wall. It'd been too long, he needed this release, and she was proving more than willing. He moved his hands to his belt, ready to take her here in the hallway, but she pulled away, dragging him along the corridor to the bedroom.

He pulled off his coat and jacket as he went, kicked off boots and socks, watching as she stepped out of her heels and dropped her bag to the floor. Her jersey dress clung close to her arse, and if it wasn't the arse of the woman he really wanted, well, he supposed it would do.

As they stumbled into the bedroom Jackie reached for the light switch but Gene grabbed her arm. "Leave it," he growled. Didn't need to see her too clearly.

She struggled for a moment but gave in as Gene began to press a trail of kisses along her neck, reaching her ear, biting on the lobe. "Gene," she murmured, squirming against him, tugging at his shirt, running her hands across his chest. She'd never admit it but she had missed this, missed his overwhelming masculinity, his confident skill in her bed.

Gene pressed his eyes closed, breathing in her familiar scent. It hadn't been an affair as such, just the occasional shag when the missus was away, but the thought of those squalid little fucks, the lies and evasions, disgusted and aroused him in equal measure. He manoeuvred her roughly towards the bed, pushing aside the memories and the longing for another woman, determined instead to enjoy himself in the moment.

He felt her hands scramble at his belt, his fly, and grunted as she took him in her hand, stroking with a leisurely rhythm. She smiled as he groaned his approval, then he pulled away to grab hem of her skirt, dragging the dress up and over her head. He took in the sight of her, naked but for stockings and a pair of knickers that seemed to be made from three bits of string.

"Still dress like a tart underneath those posh clothes," he muttered, slipping a hand along her thigh, watching as her eyelids slid closed. He tugged at her knickers, easing them down her legs, then kicked his own trousers and shorts away. She pulled his head down to hers, taking his lips in a deep, wet kiss. He felt her need, matched it, and sucked on her bottom lip, nipping, licking even as she begged him for more.

Christ, he needed this, needed to be inside her, needed to fuck away this aching emptiness he'd been suffering for so long. He dipped a finger between her legs, grimly satisfied by her slickness, the way she tilted her hips beneath his hand. "Want more, do you?" he growled, levering himself onto his elbows and pushing into her in one hard, angry thrust.

She curled her arms around his neck, trying to pull him down to her, but he took her wrists in his hand and held them flat to the pillow above her head. Staring down at her through narrowed eyes, he grunted at the look of helpless desire on her face. He began to thrust into her, slowly at first then faster, harder, needing to come. His mouth clamped on her breast, sucking hard on her nipple, biting the soft flesh, barely aware that she was moaning and bucking beneath him.

He slid his hands under her arse, holding her to him as he pounded into her, blind to everything but satisfying this sudden, avid hunger. He didn't notice her fingers gripping his shoulders, his name on her lips as she tightened around him, felt nothing but the white heat of his own climax as he shuddered, spilling into her, finally empty.

He collapsed to the mattress, rolling to his back, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. She draped an arm across his chest and he let it rest there, lacking the energy to move it away. She was a good woman, he knew, but she wasn't who he wanted. Sleep claimed him and he drifted off, his last thought the hope she hadn't spotted the truth of it.

~ x ~

Gene woke with a dry mouth and a pounding head. His surroundings were unfamiliar and it took a few disorientating moments before the events of the previous evening returned to him. He glanced to his side, saw her still sleeping alongside him, and stifled a groan. Jesus Christ, what a fucking bloody disaster.

Gingerly he eased himself out of bed, picking up his clothes and dressing quietly in the small sitting area. He'd have to freshen up back in his hotel room. Pausing at the front door, he thought briefly about leaving a note, something, but he heard her stirring in the bedroom and quickly turned the handle, letting himself out before she woke. He only realised he'd left his coat behind as the cold early-morning breeze began whipping around his ankles. He wondered if he'd ever see it again.


End file.
